


Ringmaster

by Medie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Community: fandom_stocking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia's damned with their father's sins, but Thea can still make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ringmaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jena Bartley (jenab)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenab/gifts).



She gets a whole two weeks. Twelve days to be precise. Given the climate of the media, she knows it's a gift they waited this long before going to town, but still, Olivia bites her lip when she catches sight of her own face peeking through her mother's fingers.

She slides into the backseat of the car when she sees the paper that mom is holding, taking in the sight of her glassy-eyed face, bottle of champagne in her hand and an arm around a laughing Tommy's neck. His hand's on her ass and his forehead is resting against her cheek. It's almost a good memory. 

Not saying anything, she slides into the backseat and crosses her legs. Diggle slides in beside her and she shoots a look at him, eyebrows rising with amusement. Her mother's sitting right there, reading the paper like it's the Starling City Times. 

Dig isn't fooled for a second. He tips his head, amused, and she has to grin silently at the accurate, wordless accusation. Fair point. She absolutely would use her mother's presence as a distraction. There's something terrifying about the way Diggle reads her so easily, better than anyone ever has. It should be terrifying, at least, but it isn't. Like so many things about John Diggle that should worry her, it just makes her smile.

The man's smart. Smart and good. Too good to be babysitting the likes of her and too good for this job in general. They both know it, but Dig seems content to pretend otherwise while Olivia thinks about it daily.

Every day she thinks his ease of reading her is a problem, that he's going to figure out too much, get too close, and she's going to have to do something about it.

Every day she thinks about picking up the phone and making a call. A man with his skills would set off a bidding war with half a dozen companies. He'd have his pick of positions and be out of the line of fire at the same time. His sister-in-law and his nephew would appreciate it. She'd be doing every one a favor. 

Every day, she thinks that and every day she makes an excuse not to make the call. 

Diggle's eyes narrow as he looks at her. It takes too long for her to realize that the expression on his face is concern. She's not used to that emotion and she doesn't know what to do with it. It's confusing and that confusion worries her more than anything. She's not used to someone being concerned about her. Not used to someone being able to read her so easily. 

It's a problem, like so much with Dig is. 

If her mother's noticed the exchange, she doesn't acknowledge it. She just folds the paper and sighs. It's vintage Mom and almost reassuring to know that much hasn't changed. Mom doesn't miss much, but getting her to admit it is absolutely out of the question. 

God knows, Liv's criminal record and her tabloid reputation as chock full of examples of her attempts.

But not today. With Dig still watching her, that unsettling concern on his face, she looks at her mother and pushes her sunniest smile to the surface. "In my defense, Mom, that picture is five years old. I've been on my best behaviour since—" she falters and it's genuine. This one _hurts_. 

She hasn't done anything since the day of the dedication when she'd stumbled and slurred her way through a speech, spitting all over her father's memory in an effort to protect the mission he'd set her on. 

Shame makes her cheeks heat and Olivia lets herself feel it, trying to remember why this is a good thing. She's supposed to feel shame about that. It's supposed to twist in her gut and make her sick. This is what she _wanted_. 

Besides, her mother doesn't even see it. She's still staring at the picture on the Examiner's page.

"I've been good," she says. "I promise." 

"I know, sweetheart," her mother says, putting the paper aside. "That doesn't mean it gets any easier to look at."

Olivia uncrosses her legs and leans forward to take the paper. She unfolds it on her lap, smoothing out the wrinkles and looks at it for a moment. "I remember that dress," she says, but doesn't elaborate. There's not that much she can elaborate on anyway.

She doesn't remember much from that night, but she does remember Tommy dancing her through an intersection while traffic whizzed around them. Laurel had been yelling at them from the sidewalk, terror lacing through her voice while Liv and Tommy had laughed and laughed.

"A guy on a vespa ripped my dress." The words slip out as she thinks back through the haze of alcohol to the cold air on her face and Tommy's breath on her shoulder. She can remember the feeling of his gloved fingers sliding over her hip, taking hold of the fabric as he went. The fine fabric had ripped easily in his hand and she knows that the man had probably been on some paparazzi’s payroll. 

God knows it had made good copy.

She shakes her head and sits back. "I guess the statute of limitations on my resurrection has finally run out."

"Statute of limitations?" 

It's Diggle that asks the question, but her mother's watching her as well.

Olivia means to look at her mother when she explains, but it's Dig she turns to instead. "I'm sure it's not news that I was the darling of the Starling City tabloid circuit." Actually, she and Bruce Wayne had swapped off weeks as to which one of them dominated the national scene as well. Sometimes, they'd even let Lex in on the fun.

"It isn't," Dig agrees. 

She smiles. "There are only so many 'Olivia Queen Returns' stories a tabloid can run before they start losing readers. Frankly, I'm surprised the moratorium lasted this long. It's just their rotten luck I haven't done anything worth publishing."

He frowns and, wow, she's not used that. He's actually angry on her behalf. "Don't you have people who can deal with this stuff?"

"Yes," she shrugs. "A whole firm of them." People she has no intention of calling. In truth, this is something close to a lucky break. Let the tabloids further her reputation. She needs to distance herself from the Hood, but the idea of smearing her father's name with threesomes and drunken rampages makes bile rise in her throat.

Better to let the tabloids do it for her with old pictures and photoshop. 

She folds up the paper and throws it aside. "It's better this way."

"I don't see how," Diggle says, taking the paper from her. "How old were you in this picture?"

"Seventeen, I think." 

"Not much older than Thea is now," Diggle says. He looks sideways at her and she doesn't know what to do with the look in his eyes. Part of her wants to apologize for being who she was back then, for not seeing everything going on around her, even though she knows better. Even though she knows that's not the point and all the apologizing in the world won't change her being a stupid, spoiled kid.

Even though she knows, these days, that's not who Diggle sees when he looks at her.

The unsettling part is that she wants him to know everything. Part of her's screaming 'I'm not this' and she really, really needs to get him out of her life before that scream works its way free. 

She shivers at the look on his eyes. Unable to face it, she turns her head. "Yes." 

"Olivia, you know you aren't responsible for your sister's choices," her mother interrupts, looking as unsettled as Liv feels. "That's on Walter and me." 

She wants to argue that one, but she can't. 

It hasn't escaped her that Thea spent the last five years turning herself into a parody of her older sister. She'd never been very subtle, Thea's even less, and no one's done anything about it. 

God, it hurts. 

She closes her eyes. There has to be a better way to do this. A better way to honor her father's wishes without sacrificing her family in the process.

She breathes deep. She has to find it. Dad wouldn't want Thea suffering like this. Thea or Mom. Or her. 

When she opens her eyes again, she looks at the picture. "We aren't going to do anything about the story. If they're chewing on me, they'll leave Thea alone. It might give her the opportunity she needs." It's not like she hasn't lived through this circus before and, besides, one of them should have a chance at making something of themselves. Olivia's damned with their father's sins, but Thea can still make it. 

Liv looks down at her hands. Her manicure is flawless, Mom had seen to that, but there's no fixing the callouses or the scars. 

Not that she wants to. 

She smiles and makes herself believe it. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, welcome to the greatest show on Earth."

She can do this. 

She has to.


End file.
